The irony of wearing a mask
by angelfromhigh
Summary: We all wear figurative masks. So why is it that when we literally use one to cover our faces, we are finally able to remove all the walls we built up before? Cliche in a good way.


If you sued me for ownership, you would receive some clothes, a broken cd player and a bill for my next year of university...so please, sue, so I don't have to pay for it.

* * *

She sucked in a deep breath and walked past the usher's checking tickets and handing out masks. It was ironic really, everyone was wearing masks to celebrate the defeat of someone who forced his followers to wear masks as well.

Life was full of ironies.

One such irony; everyone said she and Harry Potter were destined to be together. Who knew why, perhaps it was because she appeared to worry about him constantly. Perhaps it was because he trusted her with her secrets, where he trusted few others. Perhaps it was that he went to her when he sought advice. Everyone pegged the two to live happily ever after.

They adamantly refused it of course. She had strong feelings for Ron throughout her years at Hogwarts, while Harry, well Harry was somewhat all over the place.

They were simply best friends, and planned on remaining that way, and had no problem reminding people of that of course.

Throughout their years, Hermione always knew Harry was to be with Ginny and Hermione was supposed to be with Ron - and of course Hermione was always right.

"Damned ironies," Hermione whispered under her breath.

"What was that love?" Ron asked from behind her.

Hermione cringed. It wasn't that Ron's breath felt too warm for her skin. It wasn't that the hand clutching hers was slick with sweat. It wasn't that his other was situated not too subtly on her rear. It wasn't that he kept stepping on the back of her heels.

It was the 'love' he just HAD to add to the end of the sentence.

Not only did she question her love for Ron, but she HATED pet names for herself.

They always seemed to...unnatural.

What was wrong with Hermione, granted it was somewhat difficult to pronounce if you were say, from Bulgaria - but Ron was not from Bulgaria, therefore had no difficulty with her name.

Hermione thought her name was somewhat beautiful. It may not roll off the tongue but it was unique, and provided instant access to her personality. Hermione was Shakespearean, and Hermione felt herself afloat whenever anyone reminded her of that fact.

She was indeed very proud of her name.

'Mione, Hermy, Babe, Honey, Love, Sweetie, Cookie, Muffin and Pumpkin were not her name.

It was not a difficult concept.

"Pumpkin," cringe, "Let me take your coat, I'll get them checked and join you again right here ok?"

"Sure Ron," Hermione said slipping her coat from her shoulders. The draft of the entrance hall had her wishing she kept it on. She looked up, and couldn't help but grin at Ron. His mask was in the likeness of a lion. The mask covered from his cheeks up, and Hermione recalled something about these masks being very popular in the United States on Mardi Gras.

She studied Ron for a minute. His freckles below the mask were visible, and his lips were a soft shade of pink, slightly chapped. Even though the lion nose covered it, Hermione knew that under the mask, his true nose was slightly dented at the bridge from a nasty fall he had taken when they had been pursuing one of the Horcruxes.

His eyes were difficult to see through the cut outs, Hermione could barely tell that they were blue. The mask itself had a mane surrounding the top, which blended in perfectly with his hair colour, making Hermione question whether the masks were actually selected at random upon entrance to the ball.

She knew that the mask covered the scar that ran from the base of his scalp to his left temple - another irony of life - Ron had always somewhat idolized Harry because of what he was known for, only to receive a marking of his own - and hating it.

He walked away with her coat and she looked at the mask in her own hands.

It was truly beautiful. It was not an animal as she had originally been expecting when she had seen Ron's mask.

But it was a golden mask that seemed too be made of muggle glitter. When she lifted it to inspect it closer, Hermione was surprised to see a trail of glitter from the mask that faded into the air. Magic she concluded. On the right side was a clumping of deep red feathers that would run the length of her face when she wore it. It was a rather beautiful mask.

With a sigh, Hermione slipped on the mask, quite positive that it would clash with her navy blue dress.

Impatient for Ron, Hermione ventured into the ball room and surveyed the party-goers. Feeling somewhat confident in her abilities to see through people's natural mask, Hermione was certain she'd be able to identify her friends in the crowd, but was quite surprised to recognize no one.

There were masks of all different shapes. Some were animals like Ron (she especially admired the peacock she had just seen pass her, but quite relieved she hadn't received and elephant mask). Some were characters, such as a duke; there was a sun in the corner near the punch bowl. Some were simple like hers, with feathers or jewels here and there. One thing she did notice was that no two masks were alike. A man in a mask that was fading to different shades of the rainbow was smoothly approaching her.

"Well hello there," he began, "You must be a Gryffindor."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione knew she was famous, but found it rather difficult that anyone would recognize her so suddenly.

Leaning in close, the stranger indicated to her mask and gown, "The red and gold, Gryffindor colours."

Looking down Hermione realized that her once blue dress was now a deep crimson red, matching her dress.

"Oh, well yes, I am a former Gryffindor," Hermione finally said, hoping that whatever spell was on her dress would reverse when she took off the mask, "But I wasn't indulging in house pride - this was a result of someone's twisted humour."

Through the, now purple, mask, the boy's eyes were confused, but quickly reverted to flirt mode.

"Well I'm a former Ravenclaw," he stated proudly.

Knowing that it was against the rules to state your true identity, (for fun the minister of magic had said, to keep things light and mysterious, the minister had said, to keep things interesting, the minister had said - Hermione figured that being quite literally turned blue all over - as the invitation had threatened - was not ones idea of fun, light, mysterious or interest).

"Really?" Hermione said, bored now. She began scanning the room, while pretending to pay attention to the Ravenclaw before her.

"I guess you would know the famous trio then?"

Laughing inwardly, Hermione suddenly wondered who this boy was that he couldn't recognize her. Granted her hair was slicked back (something that took longer than, as Ron put it, 'a niffler looking for two knuts in Goyle's head'), and her school uniforms weren't exactly as flattering as the dress she was currently sporting, but she didn't think that she would be that indistinguishable from others, surely there was a tell about her.

"We've met," Hermione said lightly, afraid to give herself away, knowing that stating ones name was forbidden, but was unsure if implied names was also forbidden, she wasn't willing to turn blue to test it.

"It's a shame about Harry and Ginny though," he said in a forced sombreness.

"What are you on about?" Hermione said, giving him her full attention now.

"Why haven't you read the Daily post?" To her shaking head, he replied "They broke off the engagement this morning for undisclosed reason," the way he said this reminded her of a terrible gossip she once shared a dorm with.

Harry and Ginny had broken up. But they were meant to be together, such as Hermione and Ron were. It was simply...the way it was supposed to be. Hermione began searching the crowd for a hope that she'd somehow be able to recognize one of the two in order to find out what happened.

As her attention wandered, the Ravenclaw desperately attempted to reclaim it by going off about how well he knew the trio, (he helped that Hermione Granger study once and taught Ron how to do a spell in charms).

She had stopped listening long ago though as she had spotted someone she did know.

"You'd be surprised at how open Hermione was about needing help in a few subject. I helped her with a potions ass-"

"Will you excuse me; I think I see someone I haven't seen in ages." Hermione smacked herself, for her true reason for leaving sounded much like one of those cheesy excuses she always avoided making. "It was nice to meet you, boy from Ravenclaw," Hermione finally said, turning to leave...she was quite certain that she heard, 'You two gorgeous Gryffindor', and let herself enjoy the compliment.

As she approached the man in a fitting tux, she took a moment to admire his mask.

It was some sort of bird, an eagle Hermione assumed. The centre of the mask came to almost a half beak that covered the top of his nose. The taupe and black feathers extended from either side of the mask to give it the appearance of wings. It was a strong animal, and she couldn't think of a better mask for her old friend.

Although the mask covered the top of his face, his goofy smile gave him away and she approached him as he ended a conversation with a slightly shorter, slightly rounder man.

She called, "Nevi-" but cut herself off, afraid to turn the boy blue.

"I...umm, well I know who you are" she said rather clumsily as she reached him, attempting to figure out how to tell him who she was without stating her name, he looked at her expectantly with a grin on his face, "and well, I was in your house...and-"

"-And you helped me everyday in Potions, yes, I'd know you anywhere Hermione." he finished.

Looking at her hands quickly she was relieved to see she wasn't blue.

"So long as you don't say your own name, you won't turn blue, at least that's what Fudge was just telling me," he said indicating towards the man he had just been talking too.

Fudge, himself had a purely black mask that covered the left half of his face, leaving the right half unbelievably pale in comparison.

"It's poetic really," she began as she watched Fudge walk away.

"What is?"

"His mask, it makes him two faced." Turning to her old friend she launched herself on him, hugging him fiercely, "Oh Neville it's good to see you, it's been too long."

He returned her hug with equal happiness.

"Pardon the expression, but it's good to see a friendly face," he said, earning a light tap on his shoulder.

"Oh that was terrible Neville," Hermione giggled. "So how are the studies going?"

"Oh very well, I'm starting a thesis on the benefits of gillyweed over other magical means of underwater breathing next week. And for my practical I'm going to try and make it a potion to drink rather than something rather unpleasant to eat."

"Interesting."

"It was either that or researching a plant that would unpetrify patients without the fear of terminal screams," he said with a wink.

"So, have you seen anyone else you recognize?" Hermione prodded gently.

"Fudge practically begged me to make a speech since you, Harry and Ron all refused. And I saw Seamus a couple minutes ago, he's in a green mask, if you can spot him in all this," he indicated to the crowd, half of whom had begun dancing to the orchestra playing at the far end of the room. It was then that Hermione realized just how many people had shown up for the one year anniversary of Voldemort's death, all wearing masks like the Death Eater's that had been destroyed.

The hall was dimly lit with magically enchanted candles lining the walls. What looked like muggle Christmas lights floated about a foot above the tallest person in the room. In reality they were fairies, simply flying around enjoying themselves with watching the masks below.

Taking another look at the masks she, she suddenly felt very much alone. She knew only Neville and did not like it. It reminded her of being rather unpopular her first two month's of school, a memory she often repressed.

"Why are we here again?" she suddenly sighed.

"To celebrate the defeat of the darkest wizard of the time at the hands of you, Harry and Ron. To give the three of you the credit that was taken away from you in your fifth year of school. To cherish the memories of all those who were lost in the war...to give all people who didn't actually participate in the war a way to feel as though they contributed," he paused a second and added, "to give everyone an excuse to get sloshed off their arses, much like New Years."

She chuckled at this, wishing she could identify anyone.

"Why the masks then?"

"Well as Fudge is slightly tipsy himself, he revealed to me that since his demotion, his only job lately has been to plan this party. He was afraid Harry, or you or Ron, wouldn't show and make him look bad. So someone gave him the idea to all wear masks so that if you didn't show, no one would be the wiser."

"Was Fudge a Slytherin?" Hermione asked rhetorically, not really caring about the answer. "Neville, please, I've lost Ron, and I don't think he'll be able to recognize me in this dress, don't leave me to the masked masses." Hermione said, wishing she weren't wearing a mask so that she could give him her best 'puppy dog eyes'

He laughed lightly and linked his arm with hers, "No problem Hermione, but keep your eye out for Luna."

"Luna?"

He blushed under his mask, it was endearing.

"Yes, well, we've been communicating through owl, and I've been thinking about asking her out."

Hermione couldn't think of a more perfect fit, simply for the fact that they didn't fit perfectly.

A twinge of jealousy made itself known in her stomach at Neville's face light up when he spoke of Luna.

"Ok, as long as you keep an eye out for Harry," she thought for a moment and added "And Ron."

They made their way to the dance floor and began dancing. Enjoying the company of Neville, Hermione didn't even notice a petite blonde approach Neville, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

Stopping momentarily, Hermione looked at the intruder to see Luna, in, non other than a half moon mask. The soft silver reflected her hair, and she looked stunning in the gray-silver floor length dress she was sporting.

"May I cut in?" she asked boldly.

Sensing Neville's hesitancy to leave her alone, Hermione stepped aside and gave Neville an 'it's ok' smile.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he tentatively took her waist and began to sway to the music. She was quite sure he had never smiled goofier. Just as she was about to step off the dance floor, her wrist was grabbed and she was spun around into the arms of a horse.

Or rather a horses mask.

"Hey gorgeous," he said moving Hermione swiftly around to the beat of the song playing.

"Hello yourself, now if you'll excuse me, I was just heading off the dance floor." she made to leave but he held his grip tightly.

"Honey," cringe, "you're too beautiful not to be dancing. So I figured you might want a little company from someone who will show you a good time" he leaned in closer, Hermione could smell the rum on his breath, and he whispered, "all night long." He then inappropriately thrust his hips into hers, taking her gasp of shock of one of pleasure. "The beauty of the masks is that they reflect our personalities. Take yourself for example, your mask is gold, which means you're probably wealthy, or you like material possessions, so either way, it's a good thing I'm rich. And the red, well that's the colour of love-making, you're probably passionate in the sack too. Your mask tells me exactly what kind of girl you are, and I like it."

Having recovered from her shock, Hermione stood up straight and looked her admirer in the eye of his mask and said boldly, "I'm glad you've been able to decipher my personality, but I'm a little confused about your own mask." Not waiting for him to explain (as she was certain he would tell her he was simply a stallion - or some other corny line along those lines), she continued, "Because I'm rather certain they got the wrong end of the horse for your mask." His confused look only strengthened her resolve "Although I guess it'd be rather difficult to see where you were going if you were wearing the ass end of a horse as a mask."

He released her hand, and Hermione was quite certain the only reason he hadn't retaliate with violence was because he was still working out the finer details of what she had said to him in his thick head.

She turned around and walked proudly away from the man, and continued her search for familiar...err well familiar smiles and hair.

From the sidelines she watched the dancers mingle. Many seemed to enjoy the idea of anonymity, as she spotted more than a few animals getting friendly with more than one person.

She had long given up hope of finding Harry or Ron, and grew more depressed.

Sitting at the bar, drink in hand, Hermione allowed her inner thoughts to take over, as she paid little attention to anyone around her.

She did love Ron, truly and honestly she did. She had been devastated when he and Lavender had begun dating and had felt such a surge of pride when he had been jealous over her friendship with Victor.

She knew all the years of childish fighting was only their way of expressing feelings they couldn't express at such a young age.

However, the childish fighting had continued throughout the first year of their relationship, just after they searched for the final Horcrux. And it continued through her auror training. They just couldn't seem to get past this childish stage of their relationship.

And she knew the way they should have ended up. Her with Ron, Harry with Ginny. After all, her and Harry had been so adamant about their non-relationship, people had finally started believing them, allowing the two couples to live in peace.

However, the gods above obviously liked to play with her, because as fate would have it, as soon as the wizarding world had stopped placing her with Harry, it took an article in Witch Weekly stating how perfect Ginny and Harry were together, to make Hermione realize she now had fallen in love with her other best friend.

Hermione sat at the bar, attempting to figure out when it was exactly she had fallen in love with Harry. Perhaps it was the week after Voldemort had been defeated. She had walked in on him at the burrow, crying because he had to destroy the veil, his last hope to save Sirius. She had spent the night stroking his hair. The next day Ron asked her out.

Perhaps it was during Auror training, every night after classes the two of them would grab a bite to eat, as Ginny was still in school and Ron was training for the Chudley Cannons.

Perhaps it was when Crookshanks had died and Hermione had gone to Harry after Ron hadn't shown much sympathy.

Perhaps it was something that had just developed over the past year as Harry and Hermione spent more time together than Ron and Hermione had.

It was two days after she had read the article in Witch weekly that Harry had approached her to tell Hermione that he was going to propose to Ginny.

She hadn't seen the benefits of crying those months ago, but sitting here on the barstool all alone, with an empty glass of firewhisky beside her, Hermione was certainly seeing the benefits now.

Deciding it was probably best not to shed tears at the bar, Hermione stood up with the intention of heading to the bathroom.

Hermione was not a drinker. And even if she were, she wasn't a large girl, so one glass of firewhiskey was plenty to buzz the witch. Standing up, she began to feel the alcohol coursing through her system, and she made to sit again, her hand missing the bar stool completely.

She felt that moment of weightlessness, the kind where you know that you won't be vertical for long, before she felt two very large hand grab her from under her arms, helping her back onto her seat.

Turning to thank her saviour, she stopped to admire his mask. Whereas her mask had a fun, almost spirited golden sparkle, his was the colour of regal gold. He was clearly the king of the ball, and the crown and jewels at the top of the mask only enhanced this. He stood tall and strong. There was an aura around him that seemed familiar. She wished she could make out his eyes, but the lighting of the fireflies had all but disappeared to provide for a more intimate atmosphere.

She looked up at him, her lips tingling, begging to be kissed by this stranger (or perhaps it was just the firewhiskey talking...more likely the latter).

He held out his hand, after a moment's hesitation she took it. She stood, and after making sure she had her balance, he silently led her to the dance floor.

From the back he looked like Harry, but she couldn't get her hopes up.

She shouldn't get her hopes up.

So for tonight she would dance with this king, pretending it was Harry.

He led her to the centre of the floor and placed his hands around her waist pulling her close to him.

She circled her arms around his neck and noticed gazed hard into the eyes of the mask, trying to make her dreams a reality and see green on the other side.

That's when she saw it.

It was Harry. It may be dark and he may be wearing a mask, but his green eyes can outshine any fairy.

He met her eyes and held her gaze, yet he said nothing.

He clearly had no idea who he was dancing with.

Hermione couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore and laid her head against his shoulders.

He was on the rebound and found the first girl he could to dance with. He can't possibly recognize her, he'd have said something especially if he found had found her sitting at the bar, she reasoned.

She was tired of getting her hopes up only to be dashed once more.

So for now, she would simply enjoy him holding her in his arms as they swayed gently to the music playing in the background.

She seemed stuck in the moment. She wanted to freeze it, afraid to blink and let it be over too quickly.

The brightly coloured masks around her faded quickly away and she was aware only of Harry's heartbeat in his chest.

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

She was aware of his hand tracing circles gently across her lower back, and his breath feeling rather cool, against her hair.

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

He was the perfect height for her; she fit perfectly under his neck, not having the reach three feet above her head to encircle her arms around his neck like she had to with Ron.

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

The music seemed to disappear, as they circled slowly, drawing closer, enjoying the moment.

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

She had no idea how long they actually stayed dancing, but when she was finally certain her heartbeat was at the same tempo as his, she pulled away, instantly regretting her actions.

She looked around and realized that the room had thinned out significantly.

She was afraid to look at him, as she could feel his eyes burning holes into her soul.

She spoke, the first she had since he had caught her at the bar.

"I should go."

He didn't protest, and made no attempts to stop her.

She practically ran out of the hall, unable to be in the same room as him for another second.

She felt winded. All the air in her lungs had left her as soon as she parted from his arms.

While she was quite certain to never forget this night, his arms or his movements, she was always positive that to Harry, she would never be more than a faceless memory, fading softly in the background of his mind, eventually to be forgotten. She had possibly spent one of the most defining moments with someone who regarded her as a drunken stranger.

The thought made her dizzy.

And she would have to face him on Monday.

She would never be able to look him in the eye the same way again, without remembering the feel of his finger on the small of her back.

And then there was Ron. She couldn't remain with him. She knew it. She should have figured this out ages ago, yet it took a painful moment such as this to convince her of the path she should take.

But she didn't want to hurt Ron. He meant so much to her, he'd been her first, well her first everything.

But could she end something that offered her something that Harry would never be able to offer her?

She was tired of settling.

So she apparated home to an empty flat that she and Ron shared.

She removed her mask, and sat on the couch, waiting for Ron to return from the party.

As the she heard a soft 'pop' from the kitchen, Hermione looked at her hands in her lap and began preparing her speech.

She vaguely realized with some sadness that her dress had been enchanted back to its original blue.

"Cupcake," cringe, Ron said as he entered the room, "Oh, good your home, I was afraid you would still be stuck at the party waiting for your coat," to which he indicated to the coat he had in his hand. "Where did you go? When I got back from the coat room you had disappeared, and then I couldn't find you anywhere in the sea of masks."

He looked truly concerned. She couldn't bear to look at his eyes without breaking down, so she reverted back to staring at her hands.

"'Mione, what's wrong?"

She let a single tear roll down her cheek.

He appraoched the couch and lowered himself to her level, kneeling in front of her.

"Hermione, tell me," he said brushing the tear away from her cheek, "whatever it is, we'll work it out together."

"I...I can't anymore." she whispered harshly, regretting her words instantly.

She couldn't see his face, but was quite certain it bore a look of confusion.

"I can't settle anymore. I love you Ron, with all my heart." She paused a minute before saying what was in her opinion the most difficult thing she had ever had to say in her life, "but I'm no longer in love with you." She said the last in a small whisper, wishing to god she could change her feelings for Ron.

And she let loose. She could no longer hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall since her drink at the bar.

Ron, for his part, was at a complete loss for words and all Hermione could say, over and over, was "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Finally, after an eternity of silence, Ron asked, "How long?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Is...Is there someone else?" he asked, now looking at his own feet.

She couldn't answer. She knew she shouldn't answer for her own sanity and benefit, but this was for Ron, and he deserved the truth, so she nodded.

"But it's not what you think," she began as she saw the anger beginning to boil inside of him. "I mean, we haven't..." she said trailing off, afraid of his reaction if she spoke the words aloud, "and I never plan on...Because I never plan on pursuing it - this whatever I feel. I'm so sorry. I never planned on this, never planned on hurting you like this."

He finally raised his head to her, and said, "I know."

With those simple words, Hermione's heart swelled.

Hermione threw herself on Ron, hugging him fiercely, praying he'd heal from the pain before she did. He deserved to move on first after all.

He climbed onto the couch and hugged her back.

"I think I sort of saw it coming," he admitted as she gently rested her head on his shoulder as had become familiar.

"Really?"

"Yes, there was something about you...something distant, that wasn't there before." he said softly stroking her hair gently. "I guess I was just wishing it was my imagination."

She felt his tear hit the top of her head.

After a few minutes of comfortable sorrow between the two, Ron asked something rather unexpected, "So do you plan on pursuing this bloke?"

"What?"

"Well, this guy, the one who stole your heart from me, do you plan on asking him out?"

"I- Well no, it wouldn't be right..."Hermione said lifting her head from his shoulder looking rather confused.

"Wouldn't be right?" He said looking her in the eyes. She could see the unshed tears behind his mask of bravery. "Hermione, what wouldn't be right would be for you to lose someone who you clearly love- unless it's Malfoy." he added as an afterthought.

"But I'm quite sure he doesn't like me-"

"That's rubbish, if he's half as smart as I am, he'd be a fool not to love you."

"But-"

"No 'but's' Hermione. You only get so many great loves of your life - sometimes you only get one. You were one of mine, and he's clearly one of yours. He may even be your only..."

She thought about this a minute, before finally admitting that he was right.

Resolve coursing through her, she stood, where exactly she was going, was uncertain.

"Go get'im 'Mione." For once she did not cringe.

"I do love you, you know that right?" she said, knowing for certain nothing would ever been the same between them.

"I know...that's why I'm letting you go." he said truthfully.

"And you were one of mine too."

"One what?"

"One of the great loves of my life..." she said before she apparated away.

Once out of their flat, Ron finally released a breath and allowed a few more tears to fall freely.

"Harry is a lucky man," he whispered as he made his way towards the fireplace to floo the twins - if anyone could take his mind off Hermione, it would be them - he was quite certain some hard liquor was in order- and perhaps a strip club.

Hermione had no idea where exactly it was that Harry would be.

He wasn't at his flat, like she had tried just moments ago. She thought - if the rumours were true - that he would be at Ginny's.

However that arose a fear within her. What if the rumours weren't true? Or what if he still loved Ginny, and they had quarrelled over something trivial and the whole wedding would be back on within days. What if they were reconciling at this very moment?

She closed her eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

She apparated to the next place she thought he could be before she could wallow in her self induced self pity.

She walked up to the door man and asked for re-entrance to the ballroom, to which he replied with a strong "Sorry ma'am no re-admittance. Policy!"

Damned policy.

"Please sir, it's extremely important that I enter this building at once. A matter of life or death."

He looked at her in the manner a bully would look upon his prey. "A manner of life and death you say? Hey Kelvin," He called to the guard on the other side of the entrance, "this little lady says she just MUST re-enter the ballroom, that it's a matter of life or," placing his hand over his heart he said so sarcastically, "DEATH!"

"Life or death you say?" Kelvin called.

"Life or death." the guard in front of Hermione nodded sombrely.

"But policy?"

"You're right Kelvin," the guard in front of her called. He turned his attention back to Hermione and in a no-nonsense manner, he stated "Policy."

She was tired of being patronized like some...nobody.

She had a status in this world, one she rarely used but she'd be damned sure these guards would know the full power she held.

"Do you know who you are speaking to..." looking at his name tag, "Thomas?" she stood at her full height, a normally unimpressive 5'4, but with the anger running through her body, she seemed to hold much, much more presence.

But the guard was not going to be scared away by a girl who barely reached his shoulders.

"An annoying little girl in a pretty blue dress?" he said sarcastically, eyeing her lewdly. "Now then, you are not re-entering this party, so turn that cute little hinny around and march yourself on home." He also brought himself to his full height.

Yet for someone so small, she most definitely held the power between the two.

Without even removing her wand from her dress, Hermione approached the guard. With her finger, jabbing into his chest upon each word, she stated, very slowly and very clearly, "I am Hermione Granger, this party is in MY honour. This means I'll leave if I damn well want to leave, and re-enter if I damn well want to re-enter."

For the first time the guard faltered. Sparks had begun emitting themselves from the tip of her finger.

"Hermione Granger eh?" called Kelvin.

She snapped her head towards him that had him backing away slowly, quite literally tripping over himself to retreat. When Kelvin stood and noticed her eyes still on him, he did, quite possibly the smartest thing he had ever done in his life.

He ran.

Thomas, still recovering from the shock that this tiny witch could question his man-hood, attempted to regain a hold on the situation.

"I don't care if you are the queen of England," he said not too confidently, "yo...you're not re-entering. Minister's orders."

Thomas was suddenly becoming very aware of how this young lady of only 19 had survived Voldemort.

He then became very aware of how true the rumours of Hermione Granger being the cleverest witch of her age, as he had felt himself shrinking in size.

His feeling of panic was soon overcome with an overwhelming urge to chase his tail, and sniff the tree near him to mark it.

Hermione admired her handiwork, Thomas made a somewhat handsome, if not arrogant and rude bloke, but he made a darn cute poodle, if she did say so herself.

Having calmed down a little, realizing she quite enjoyed being who she was sometimes, but gave pause to re-gather her courage.

She entered the hall, and conceded without much argument, when the doorman told her to replace her mask.

She walked into the ballroom, and looked around. It was nearly bare now, save for a few couples still dancing, too preoccupied with themselves to notice three house elves attempting to clean around them.

She could not spot the mask of the King.

She turned to leave, almost ready to admit defeat, when she spotted a sparkle of gold, whipping her head around she was shocked to see Harry sitting at the bar alone, toying with a glass of what appeared to be firewhiskey.

She was shocked at how...restless he appeared to be.

It wasn't that he was fidgeting or continually checking his watch; it was more, his posture and his demeanour.

It just screamed restlessness.

She approached him slowly; also suddenly aware of how handsome he was, even while wearing a mask.

His shoulders were wide, but strong. His torso narrowed at his waist, but wasn't un-proportioned. He had one foot balanced on the bar stool the other resting on the floor. Hermione was quite certain he rivalled any description ever printed about him in Witch Weekly or Playwitch.

He seemed to into his own thoughts to hear her coming, but when she was mere centimetres from touching his shoulder he whipped around to face her.

They locked eyes and didn't look away.

Hermione barely noticed when he stood up, and took her hand.

Slowly he led her out of the ballroom, past the entrance hallway and past the poodle 'guarding' his territory, never once losing eye contact.

Thinking he would apparate them back to his apartment, Hermione waited for the inevitable lurching of her world.

But it never came; instead he gently said "You came back!"

"You were waiting!" he released her hand, and when she looked down to search it again, she watched both of his hands moved closer to her face. Her eyes followed the movement of his hands until he brushed his fingers across the side of her temple.

Closing her eyes, she felt Harry lift the mask gently from her face.

He didn't gasp as she had been expecting.

She opened her eyes to confirm he was still standing before her, and watched as he brought his right hand to her face, trailing from where he had touched her to remove her mask, all the way down to the corner of her lip.

"Hermione," he breathed. Mimicking his earlier actions, she removed his mask, and realized that once and for all she was here, with Harry.

He brushed him thumb over his lips, not tearing his eyes away from hers.

She felt a tingle throughout her body as she anticipated his next movement.

Leaning in slightly, she focussed on his approaching set of lips.

When the pair of lips met in the middle, Hermione let her eyes flutter shut and allowed the pleasure he was bringing her in such a chaste kiss to overtake her.

She felt his tongue running along her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she happily granted.

His tongue met hers began making love to her mouth

She moaned in pleasure, which seemed to snap Harry out of his trance.

"Hermione," he said breaking the kiss.

"No talking, just kissing," she muttered leaning forward to recapture his lips.

"No, we need to talk," he said keeping her at bay. She suddenly realized she was probably coming on too strong and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

"Hermione, I broke up with Ginny today-"

"I know, I heard it was in the Daily Post-"

"Well yes, we broke off our engagement. Well she broke off our engagement."

"Why?" Hermione asked, suddenly very interested in why the couple split.

"Because I wouldn't set a date."

"Well that seems a rather inane reason not to want to-"

"I didn't set a date because I didn't actually want to get married." he said cutting her off.

"Because I'm in love with someone else."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

So borrowing from Ron she asked "How long."

"Too long."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked suddenly worried.

"Only if she's afraid of me loving her forever." This was more of a question. "But she has a boyfriend. Who she's loved since...well since forever."

"No." she said firmly.

He was rather taken aback at her response. "No?"

"I mean no, she doesn't have a boyfriend. They broke up, I mean Ron and I broke up tonight-" a thought suddenly hit her and Hermione asked "- Wait I am the girl right?"

He chuckled lightly and said "You're the girl Hermione. You've always been the girl. You will always be the girl." And with that he recaptured her lips.

After a couple minutes of heated snogging, Hermione pulled away again and looked him in the eye.

"You know what this means don't you?"

"What's that?"

"I'm going to have to call someone I despise and tell her that she was indeed right, and..."she made a face of disgust, "apologize."

With a grin on his face he looked at her, as asked "Who's this?"

With the amount of loathing she would often use when referring to Draco Malfoy in previous years, Hermione said "Rita Skeeter."

"While you're apologizing, do me a favour?"

"What's that?"

"Thank her for pointing me in the right direction. It may have taken me a few years to realize it, but I've always been a little slow on the uptake."

"Well...I wouldn't use 'slow' words exactly-"

He interrupted her with a well placed kiss.

"Thick-headed maybe", kiss, "blind perhaps," kiss, "a little -"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up and kiss me!"

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

This story started out as a cliche (how many Masquarades love stories have you all read?) So I tried to fit in as many cliche's as I could...try and count as many as you can, I lost track eventually. I just hope the cliche's are worked in nicely and aren't completely blatant. (However, "Shut up and kiss me" was possibly the most cliche line I had hehe, but it's cuuuute don'tcha think?)

Anyways, feel free to review (it'll make me smile, and I have a rather pretty smile with straight white teeth so it's something pleasant for everyone lol).

AFH


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